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John bounded up the stairs to the flat with energy resembling the children out playing excitedly in the fresh snow, chasing each other around and hurling hastily formed snow balls at each other. He knew Sherlock would be in a pouty mood; they hadn’t had a good case in 6 days and John could tell that the joy everyone was receiving from the year’s first snow simply exacerbated his irritation. Sometimes John just had to drag Sherlock out and force him to be normal.
“Sherlock!” He called as he jogged up the last few steps and into the living space. John rolled his eyes at his dramatic flat mate on the sofa, back turned and huffing his disapproval. “There is something you have to see.”
“The snow? Yes, John, I’ve seen it.” Another exaggerated sigh. "Boring."
John took it upon himself to grab Sherlock’s shoes and coat from the hallway and he thrust them in the direction of the grumpy detective.
“It’s not a case but I think you’ll find it interesting. Please come?”
Sherlock sat up and groaned. John just watched in utter amazement as Sherlock actually complied and lazily pulled his coat on in one swift motion while unceremoniously shoving his feet in his shoes, not bothering to tie them.
“Thank you. Now come with me.” John took Sherlock by the hand and led him down the stairs, out the front door, up Baker Street a bit and then down a tiny drive leading to a courtyard. John ignored the grumbling as they went and happily watched the kids playing in the street now covered in 10 centimetres of snow, no doubt enjoying the day off from school.
John stopped and waited for Sherlock to look at him. When he knew he had his full attention, he pointed to a print in the snow. A body print. John felt his insides warm when Sherlock’s face lit up just a little. A puzzle.
“Go on, have a look.”
The detective crouched next to the body print, eyes bright and taking in all of the details for a few moments before stating his conclusions at an alarming rate
“Male, approximately 1.7 metres, 68-70 kilograms. The imprint implies that he was wearing a cable knit jumper but the pattern on the arms was obliterated as he stood up. He was wearing jeans; two pockets on the left side and only one on the right, slightly frayed at the bottom as if his trousers were too long for him and worn down under his feet. He was wearing heavy shoes with a shallow tread, though this indent here could be because he had to stand up with no one to help him.”
John stood back chuckling to himself. “Ok, that’s well and good.” He took Sherlock’s hand again and led him to another print. “What about this one?”
When his flat mate didn’t reply, John considered this a victory. He was quite proud of himself for the second print. He didn’t know what made him do it, but he was sure that it would catch Sherlock’s attention. The fact that Sherlock was silent let him know that his plan was a success, the man was speechless. They both stood there staring at the imprint of John’s body, this time without the clothing. The outline of two perfect round globes of his arse blatantly stood out and he shivered at the memory of getting naked and lying in the snow. He nervously glanced up at the windows to the flats surrounding the small courtyard, hoping that no one that he knew saw him do it earlier.
When John turned back to his flat mate, the look in Sherlock’s eyes was intense. He smiled shyly and Sherlock reacted immediately squeezing his hand tightly and dragging him back down Baker Street to 221B.